EXT. CORUSCANT — SENATE FLAT COMPLEX — DAY
The sun shines bright on the Senate Flat Complex, a series of connected apartment buildings built to accommodate the plethora of senators from all worlds of the Empire.
INT. SENATE FLAT COMPLEX/CORRIDOR OUTSIDE GUME SAAM’S FLAT — DAY
A Rodian maid arrives with a service trolley laden with cleaning products and fresh linens. Stopping at the door to Senator Gume Saam’s flat, she KNOCKS.
RODIAN MAID: Senator? It’s Clana. Alright if I come in?
Receiving no answer, Clana opens the door and guides the trolley in.
INT. SENATE FLAT COMPLEX/GUME SAAM’S FLAT/LIVING AREA — DAY
The maid enters the living area. As she does so, she immediately comes upon a most unexpected and unwelcome sight: the Ishi Tib senator sprawled out upon his sofa, a blaster held loosely in his right hand and a hole bored through his skull, stone dead. She SCREAMS.
CUT TO
An hour later.
LIEUTENANT TAN DIVO of the Coruscant Security Forces enters the apartment. Already present are forensic officers, going over the residence in search of clues. Over by the body of Gume Saam stands SERGEANT HEREON MORESOOT.
LT. DIVO: (approaches Moresoot) What’s on our platter, Sergeant?
SGT. MORESOOT: (cocks brow) Draw your own conclusions.
Taking out a small canister, the balding, maroon-eyed lieutenant sprays a whitish fluid on both hands. After the fluid has solidified into latex-like coverings, he begins his cursory examination. After giving Saam’s head wound and gun hand once-overs, he picks a sheet of flimsi up from the caf table and speed-reads through the suicide note.
SGT. MORESOOT: (nods) Open-and-shut.
LT. DIVO: (sets flimsi down) See that the Senator from Tibrin is bagged and tagged.
Done here, the lieutenant pivots on his heel and strides out. The sergeant leaves to get somebody to attend to Saam. Neither men taken notice of the Ishi Tib’s left hand, the fingers of which are dark with bruises.
INT. JEDI TEMPLE/ROOM OF A THOUSAND FOUNTAINS — DAY
Darth has entered the Room of a Thousand Fountains. His hair combed, his gray uniform cleaned and ironed, the hilts of his twin lightsabers hanging side-by-side from his belt, he looks a damn sight better than he did the night — and morning — before.
Darth stands on the bottom floor of the chamber. The space is occupied by several beautiful gardens. Numerous Jedi share the space with him, alone or together, walking or resting, conversing or meditating. Gazing upward, Darth sees the dozens upon dozens of elevated platforms which fill up space in the seven storeys overhead.
CUT TO
Siri, situated on one of the platforms, sitting by a brook under the sheltering arms of a bafforr tree, in a lotus position, in meditation.
Having entered a turbolift tube connecting the bottom floor with the platform, Darth is carried up until he emerges atop the platform. He quickly finds his foster mother. Opening her eyes, Siri turns to face her foster son standing behind her.
SIRI: (cont’d) Anything I can help you with, Darth?
Approaching Siri, Darth sits down before her.
DARTH: You don’t like what I’m becoming. That’s what you said?
Siri nods.
DARTH: (cont’d) I … I lost one mother; I don’t want to lose another. (beat) I’ll give it up — give it all up — I’ll be your apprentice. Just please … don’t leave me alone.
As Darth’s eyes grow moist, he turns away. Reaching out, she runs a thumb under an eye, drawing the excess liquid away as she tears up herself.